Helen, who was as pale as death, looked at him with vacant and
unrecognizing eyes, but made no reply, for it was evident that she
either had not heard, or did not understand, a word he said.

"Helen," said he, "did you hear me?"

She looked upon him with a long look of distress and misery, but there
was the vacancy still, and no recognition.

This, I suppose, thought the father, is just the case with every
love-sick girl in her condition, who will not be allowed to have her own
way; but of what use is a father unless he puts all this nonsense down,
and substitutes his own judgment for that of a silly girl. I will say
something now that will startle her, and I will say nothing but what I
will bring about.

"Helen, my darling," he said, "are you both deaf and blind, that you can
neither see nor hear your father, and to-morrow your wedding-day? Sir
Robert Whitecraft will be here early; the special license is procured,
and after marriage you and he start for his English estates to spend the
honeymoon there, after which you both must return and live with me, for
I need scarcely say, Helen, that I could not live without you. Now I
think you ought to be a happy girl to get a husband possessed of such
immense property."

She started and looked at him with something like returning
consciousness. "But where is Willy Reilly?" she asked.

"The villain that would have robbed me of my property and my daughter is
now safe in Sligo jail."

A flash of something like joy--at least the father took it as
such--sparkled in a strange kind of triumph from her eyes.

"Ha," said she, "is that villain safe at last? Dear papa, I am tired of
all this--this--yes, I am tired of it, and it is time I should; but you
talked about something else, did you not? Something about Sir Robert
Whitecraft and a marriage. And what is my reply to that? why, it is
this, papa: I have but one life, sir. Now begone, and leave me, or, upon
my honor, I will push you out of the room. Have I not consented to all
your terms. Let Sir Robert come tomorrow and he shall call me his wife
before the sun reaches his meridian. Now, leave me; leave me, I say."

In this uncertain state her father found himself compelled to retire to
the drawing-room, where Sir Robert and he met.

"Mr. Folliard," said the baronet, "is this true?"

"Is what true, Sir Robert?" said he sharply.

"Why, that Reilly and the Red Rapparee are both in Sligo jail?"

"It is true, Sir Robert; and